


Acquisition

by ilcuoreardendo



Series: Another Space and Time (Star Wars fics) [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (at times), Domestic Fluff, Fate, Force inhibitor collar, Gen, He might even accept one from you Vader, Kid Luke, Long-Haired Obi-Wan, M/M, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, On the Run, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Parental Obi-Wan, Poor Obi-Wan, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Protective Obi-Wan, Vaderwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-20 07:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: Wherever he went, Vader seemed to follow. And it became much too frequent an occurrence to just be coincidence.Part 3 posted 10-13-18.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt request: Hi, can you do a prompt about Vader kinda chasing after obi through the galaxy. Obi is tired and depressed and doesn't try to run anymore. I would enjoy if it is vaderwan_
> 
>  
> 
> Originally requested, written and posted at my [Tumblr](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com). Tweaked a bit before adding here. (And if there are grammar/technical errors, sorry - point them out and I'll fix them. I can't see the forest for the trees right now.)
> 
> I'm "pantsing" this people. I have no outline. I only have a vague idea of what's happening.

* * *

Two years he’d been running. Two years since he fled Tattooine in the dead of night, unable to get word to Beru and Lars for fear of leading the Empire right to Luke, slipping past clone stormtroopers with a few well-placed mind tricks and a pale, smooth face that took years off his appearance. He’d boarded a freighter right as he felt Anak—Vader touch down.

It had been a series of far too close calls since then, as the Empire’s reach grew ever wider, even though he stayed off the core planets, working where he could find it, letting the Force lead him when he couldn’t.

But wherever he went, Vader seemed to follow. And it became much too frequent an occurrence to just be coincidence.

On Dantooine, Obi-Wan nearly walked smack into the Imperial shuttle as he headed for his lodgings. He’d turned tail and run, leaving behind the few items he’d carried with him, a data pad full of fictions and histories and the black river stone he’d found among Anakin’s belongings before Obi-Wan had left the Temple for the last time.

They were just objects.

He tried to let it go, give the black swell of loss, of despair, to the Force, but couldn’t.

The loss _ached_. Two more pieces of his world ripped away.

On the docks of Utapau, he’d seen Vader from a distance. A spot of darkness against the morning light. He’d watched the sun glint off the black armor, had to shake himself out of a near trance as he realized that armor was making its way toward him. Then he’d tricked some poor dock worker and slipped into a cargo hold just as the doors slid shut. He’d felt the hot, dark hum of a force signature as the ship left the atmosphere, seeking, _reaching_.

On Ryloth, it had been only the quick eyes and ears of young Numa and her family that had Obi-Wan tearing away from the farm he’d been helping rebuild and ensconced in his own ship—a gift from the villagers—before Vader marched through town, a handful of stormtroopers following in his wake.

Through the force, he’d known Numa and her family had survived. But the village, so recently recovered from the Clone Wars, was once more rubble.

His heart ached.

On Naboo, it finally came to a head.

He’d never meant to go there, had no intention of visiting a place that held naught but ghosts. But fate or the Force–perhaps one and the same–saw his hyperdrive fail just outside the planet’s atmosphere and he targeted a mid-sized city some distance from the capital in hopes of getting repairs done quickly and unobtrusively.

The repairs would take three days.

Vader’s Imperial ship was there within one.

Obi-Wan saw it burn through the sky from just outside the mechanic shop, felt the tremor of unease through the people, felt his own exhaustion pulse inside him and made a decision.

He wished he still had his Jedi uniform, at the least, his robes. But he made do with the second-hand robe the color of rich soil.

Leaving the last of his credits on the counter, he pulled the hood over his head, clasped his hands in his sleeves, and stepped out into the street and walked toward the docks.

He’d gone little more than a block when he was surrounded by clone stormtroopers.

He closed his eyes and kept them closed, even as felt blasters trained on him, as the troopers grabbed his arms, and half marched, half carried him to the waiting ship. He kept them closed even as he felt Vader step in front of him, moving close, Force signature swelling like a tidal wave and threatening to drown him.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes tighter as, with the creak of leather, fingers wove into his hair, gripping just shy of painful. The hissing hum of the respirator came close and when Vader spoke, Obi-Wan could hear nothing of the boy in the mechanically enhanced voice.

“Obi-Wan. I’ve been looking for you.”

“And you’ve found what you were looking for. So kill me and leave these people in peace.”

The fingers tightened and a huff of air came through the respirator, maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh.

“Kill you? Yes. Yes, I could kill you. It would be well deserved. Or, I could take your arms. Your legs. Leave you in pieces; let you see how it feels.” The air around them trembled with a wash of rage. The fingers twisted in his hair, pulling violently at his scalp. And then it broke, retreating like the tide. “But I think I’m going to give you a choice. Open your eyes, Obi-Wan.”

He does, the curve of black durasteel taking up most of his line of sight, but leaving him just enough room to see the flash of yellow and blue darting up behind Vader and he wondered at the brightness of the Force as he looked down and watched the youngling, watched _Luke_ , cling to Vader’s leg. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, felt the weight of two years crashing down on him, and it was only the hand tightening on his head and forcing his neck back that kept him on his feet.

He met the emotionless expression of the mask and Vader spoke again.

 “I can take you apart, Obi-Wan. Or,” Vader held up his other hand, bulky black collar clutched between his fingers. Obi-Wan didn’t have to reach out with his mind to recognize the electric force suppression collar. He shuddered.  “Or…you can submit and come with me.” Vader inclined his head slightly toward Luke. “With us.”

Luke, whose cheek had been pressed against Vader’s leg, thumb in his mouth, turned his face up to Obi-Wan. He had Anakin’s eyes and they flashed with something, a micro-burst of recognition, perhaps, gone before it could be grasped and the boy shyly tucked his head behind Vader’s knee.

“Well, my old master. What will it be?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Obi-Wan tightened the band around his hair, pushed his feet into soft slippers and walked out of the room in his sleep pants and tunic, carrying Luke on his hip. A year ago, such a thing was unfathomable; he’d needed to be prepared and ready to run at a moment’s notice. Two and half years ago, waking up was followed by morning meditations and that was immediately followed by bathing and dressing._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _But back then he wasn’t a pet Jedi in a gilded cage. Or looking after an energetic two year old with whom breakfast was always an adventure in what kind of palette of colors Luke could make of their clothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that got away from me. Here we have some cognitively dissonant domestic fluff with Obi-Wan and Luke. (Vader does show at the end.) 
> 
> I was already working with a part III in mind and this was the path. Originally posted at my [Tumblr](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com), as usual.

* * *

_The world was endless night and the night was on fire, the air so thick and hot, it was a struggle to draw breath. His muscles screamed, his mind screamed, but he raised his lightsaber, swung, felt the tension of the cut along fibula, femur, tibia. The air grew thicker with the sour odor of charred flesh, heavy and distinct, even over the odor of lava. Eyes peered up at him from the dark, red, then gold, then blue as the Tatooine sky._

“Obi!”

Something warm and vaguely sticky plopped against his cheek, twitched and gripped at him like a fleshy starfish. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinked, found Luke clambering onto the sofa, using Obi-Wan’s face as a hand-hold. 

Across the room, through the gap in the deep blue curtains, Obi-Wan could see the faintest blue tinge of dawn.

Luke squirmed on top of him, sliding into the crook of his arm, wedged himself in between Obi-Wan and the back of the sofa, laid his head on Obi-Wan’s chest and stuck his thumb in his mouth. In a moment, he was asleep. This was a typical part of the morning for them. Luke woke early, climbed over the safety rails on his bed and joined Obi-Wan on the couch.

Obi-Wan had only been in Vader’s home a standard month, but already it felt like he’d never been anywhere but, like the two years he’d spent running and worrying were part of a dream. Some part of him whispered that he should be worried about that, but another part pointed out that it was far too early to think such heavy thoughts.

He stroked Luke’s fine blonde hair, let himself be lulled into a light doze by the toddler’s steady breathing.

When next he woke, it was to full dawn pouring through the gap in the curtain, Luke’s foot lodged in his side and the boy making speeder noises as he drove his fingers around the patterns of Obi-Wan’s tunic. He sat up, pulling Luke with him and wincing as his neck protested the odd angles he’d spent the night in. After weeks of sleeping on it, he had to admit the couch wasn’t going to get any more comfortable. He thought of the lush bed in his given quarters, dismissed it readily. Luke’s room was on the opposite end of the hall from it and from Vader’s.

Luke patted Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Obi. Breakfast. Waffle?”

“Yes, Luke. We can have waffles.”

Obi-Wan didn’t bother changing, Luke or himself. He tightened the band around his hair, pushed his feet into soft slippers and walked out of the room in his sleep pants and tunic, carrying Luke on his hip. A year ago, such a thing was unfathomable; he’d needed to be prepared and ready to run at a moment’s notice. Two and half years ago, waking up was followed by morning meditations and that was immediately followed by bathing and dressing.

But back then he wasn’t a pet Jedi in a gilded cage. Or looking after an energetic two year old with whom breakfast was always an adventure in what kind of palette of colors Luke could make of their clothing.

This morning started with purple calla berries on the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic, from Luke offering him a taste-test of the fruit and missing his mouth by…quite a bit. Then came a dusting of sugar and sticky syrup on the thighs of his pants as he helped Luke prepare his waffle, only to have the boy Force push a slice of it off the plate and into Obi-Wan’s lap.

The final touch came when Luke tired of shoving pieces of waffle into his mouth and decided to pour himself more blue milk. Instead of asking Obi-Wan–who had been trying to instill some measure of table manners in the child – or the service droid for more, he managed to levitate the pitcher toward him and immediately dropped it on the tray of his high chair, dripping a blue mess into his lap and onto the floor. 

Luckily, Obi-Wan had taken to only filling the pitcher one third full, so there wasn’t much to waste. But as he moved the tray aside, Luke looked up at him with large eyes, mouth a round “O” and his lower lip began to tremble.

 _Damn_.

“Luke, it’s okay.” Obi-Wan knelt next to the chair, soaking blue milk into the knees of his pants and mopping off the tray with one cloth napkin, using another to wipe Luke’s hands. “Accidents happen. Luckily, this one was just a sticky accident.” Luke sniffled. A tear rolled down his cheek and Obi-Wan knew the next moment he’d open his mouth and the screaming would start and something would probably break. Last time it had been the mirror that hung in the living room. “A very sticky accident. A “need a bath” sticky accident. With Dewba?”

Luke blinked, mouth closing, tantrum abating. “Dewba!”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, lifting Luke from the chair. “Let’s go see if Dewba wants a post-breakfast bath.”

Dewba was a well-worn rubber Dewback that kept Luke company during every bath. As Dewba went on an undersea adventure, Obi-Wan scrubbed the syrup and milk from Luke’s skin, gently washed his hair, pale blonde turning dark under the water and for a moment he flashed on a sunny morning, years ago, Anakin right out of the ‘fresher, tunic sticking wetly to his back, Padawan braid a damp and unruly mess, shorn hair dripping, running to the table to shove a still hot biscuit in his mouth.

When he found his way back to the present, Luke was staring at him, head cocked, eyes too perceptive for a two year old, but then…he wasn’t just any two year old, was he?

“Obi sad.”

“Sometimes,” he said. Then he wiped a swathe of bubbles on the tip of Luke’s nose. “But you help make me not sad, little one.”

Luke’s grin rivaled the morning sun.

After his bath, Obi-Wan settled Luke into the playpen he’d set up in his quarters, leaving him plenty of toys to occupy himself with and locking the gate. While Luke had rudimentary control over the Force, his fine motor control was non-existent. He might be able to break the pen during a tantrum, but they would deal with that if and when it happened.

Returning to the ‘fresher with clean clothes, he drained the tub, started the shower, stripped and tossed his soiled clothes down the chute for the service droids to deal with.

It was a challenge to not linger under the hot spray all morning, despite his Jedi training, despite the collar around his neck that, he’d heard, had been known to short-circuit when submerged and electrocute its wearer. Vader had assured him this collar was much better insulated than the cheaper offshoots, but Obi-Wan didn’t like to risk it, didn’t want to relive the few times the collar had been put to work. Once had been through his own attempt at using the Force. He’d unthinkingly reached out to steady a piece of décor Luke upended and found himself on his knees, having forgotten for a moment how to stand, how to breathe. The other was at the hand of the Emperor, once Palpatine had gotten wind that the Jedi Vader had been stalking was not, in fact, dead, but living in his apprentice’s home and looking after his son. It hadn’t taken the Force to feel Vader’s rage when he found a screaming Luke standing outside of Obi-Wan’s rooms while Obi-Wan lay near comatose on the floor at the Emperor’s feet, his body on fire.

He wasn’t sure what Vader had said or did to smooth things over. He only ever saw the Emperor at arranged meetings after that day and no stormtroopers came calling, so he chose not to examine it too deeply.

Once showered, he stood in front of the mirror to remove the last week’s growth from his face. After he’d returned with Vader and Luke, he’d begun to grow back the beard that had been, well, a signature part of his look for years. No point in hiding who he was anymore. Then one morning, he’d found a tube of Depil Cream waiting on the corner of his vanity.

It wasn’t a battle he was going to pick.

His hair he’d unintentionally grown long over the course of his two years on the run. He’d cut it once or twice with his own lightsaber when it got to be too much. He smiled a little at the thought that it was longer than Qui-Gon’s hair ever was and combed it through, weaving it into its usual plait, auburn and strands of silver twined together down to the middle of his back.

Dressed in another loose tunic, this one more appropriate for daily wear, and slim cut trousers, he pulled on another pair of slippers. He had little need of boots these days, had only worn them the few times he’d accompanied Vader to the Imperial Palace for the Emperor’s inspection of body, mind and demeanor. _I am here to serve Lord Vader_ , _Majesty. I am here to attend to young Luke._  

Obi-Wan retreated from the ‘fresher, found Luke building large structures with his blocks and then, frown of concentration on his face, knocking them down with the force.

Obi-Wan stepped into the playpen and knelt, picking up one of the blocks. The set was blue and silver with an Aurebesh letter etched into each one. They were rather fetching for a child’s toys and something in Obi-Wan longed for his lost river stone, though—he touched the collar around his throat—at this point, it would only bring him pain. He wished he could reach out and touch the Force, wished he could sink deeply into meditation, not just close his eyes and clear his mind and listen to his breathing.

Another block construction crumbled around him, one of them tumbling into his lap and he looked up to see Luke biting his lip.

“Would you like your block?” Obi-Wan asked, lifting the toy from his lap.

Luke nodded.  
  
“Can you take it from me? Without your hands,” he finished, as Luke started to crawl toward him.

Luke tilted his head, staring at Obi-Wan, then staring at the block. Then Obi-Wan felt the lightest tug against his fingers and the block floated away from him, wobbling dangerously before steadying, and falling just short of Luke’s toes.

“Very good!”

Luke laughed and Obi-Wan was flooded with warmth, wishing he could share fully in the moment, wishing he could touch Luke’s mind with his own. It hurt, not being able to, but it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it would, didn’t warrant the hesitance with which he’d approached Luke’s abilities. He knew Vader was teaching his son. It was only right that Obi-Wan, too, give the child what he could.

“Want to try again?”

 

When Luke became tired and fussy, they stopped their Force exercises and found something on the Holo to watch before Luke took his nap. After Luke’s nap and a rather uneventful lunch (apart from one Gala fruit smearing itself across the window), Obi-Wan told stories he remembered hearing as a youngling and then followed Luke’s lead in playing hide and seek, of which Luke won most of their games.

“Obi bright!” Luke exclaimed, when he’d found Obi-Wan for the third time and Obi-Wan wondered exactly what Luke saw when he looked at him.

In the evening, after dinner and bath time, they sat on the terrace of the apartment, looking out over the city. Luke liked to watch the speeders and occasional passenger freighters as they passed. His favorite things were the speeder bikes and more than once Obi-Wan had been grateful for the terrace energy field that kept Luke from tumbling over the edge as he tried to get a closer look.

Tonight, they sat on one of the loungers, watching the traffic fly by like shooting stars. Luke lay on Obi-Wan’s chest, his head on his shoulder and it wasn’t long before he dozed off. It wasn’t long before Obi-Wan followed, reveling in the warmth of the child and the evening and breathing in the sweet scent of delicate soap. He didn’t dream.

He woke to someone pulling Luke out of his arms, his heart lurching as he sat up, blearily trying to follow the boy, until he heard Luke’s sleepy but enthusiastic murmur. “ _Daddy_.”

“Easy, Obi-Wan.” The too-deep voice and hiss of the respirator brought Obi-Wan fully awake.

Heart in his throat, Obi-Wan stopped himself from jumping out of the lounger. Even after weeks with the Force inhibitor, he still wasn’t used to not sensing Vader’s presence in the apartments, whenever he returned from whatever business he’d been on.

He watched Vader cradle Luke against his shoulder, the boy whispering sleepily of his day, forgetting half of it as he drifted in and out.

“Sounds like a very busy day. Which means it’s bedtime. Say good night to Obi-Wan,”

“Night, Obi,” Luke murmured, blinking sleep-eyed up at him and tilting his face expectantly.

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment beneath the placid expression of Vader’s mask, then stepped close and placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Goodnight, Luke.” He touched the boy’s temple lightly with the tips of his fingers. “The best of dreams.”

Vader turned and carried Luke toward the terrace doors. Obi-Wan counted several minutes and then trailed along behind them. When he arrived in hallway for the bedrooms, Vader was standing outside Luke’s closed door. 

He continued past as if that was his intention in the first place, only to be stopped by gloved fingers curling lightly around his wrist. The grip felt completely human, as if warm fingers lay under those gloves rather than padded durasteel.

Obi-Wan raised his head, eyes focusing on the middle of expressionless mask. 

“Obi-Wan,” Vader said. There may have been amusement there, gone so fast that Obi-Wan was scarce sure he heard it, replaced with a slight exasperation and an undercurrent of command. “Sleep in your own room.”

Then Vader brushed past him and headed down the hallway, away from the bedrooms.

Obi-Wan stared at Luke’s closed door, thought of the safe warmth and quiet behind it, thought how horrible it would be to sully that sanctuary, touched the edges of his collar and remembered fire rushing through him, the struggle to breathe.

Then he turned and walked to his own room, closing and locking the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Shared evenings became the new normal._
> 
> _Sometimes Vader engaged him in conversation. At others, he left Obi-Wan to his own devices, reading or watching the news on the holonet._
> 
> _Obi-Wan found himself observing Vader as he bent over a datapad, staring inscrutably at news of skirmishes in the mid-rim, in what were once Republic strongholds now chafing under Imperial rule._
> 
> _On several occasions, Vader asked Obi-Wan a leading question, on history or politics or even the state of the Empire’s expansion. They were meant to make him respond with incredulity, even outrage. And Obi-Wan, emerging from the depths of his book, was often deep into an answer before he realized what Vader had done._
> 
> _It reminded him so much of Anakin that something deep inside him cracked every time, threatened to shatter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not realize it had been a year since I posted Part II. Tempus Fugit. 
> 
> I have an end game for this story. It won't be much longer (another part or two). I think I need to sew a few more seeds of plot that may not necessarily conclude in this particular fic. 
> 
> It had been so long since I worked on this, it was hard to get back in the rhythm. Oh, that damn je ne sais quoi.

* * *

Obi-Wan spent the night undisturbed.

Vader had Luke up and on his lap eating toast and fruit before Obi-Wan rose the next morning; the boy was a spot of bright blue and green against the black of Vader’s armor.

After breakfast, Vader left Luke in Obi-Wan's care and disappeared for the day, joining them at the table as they had late meal in the evening. Obi-Wan was trying to help Luke eat a thick stew broth with a spoon, but eventually gave up and let the boy sip directly from the bowl. The tilt of Vader’s helm and the way he held his body made Obi-Wan think he was amused.

During Luke's bedtime story, Vader loomed in the doorway, listening.

When Obi-Wan bent to kiss Luke’s upturned face goodnight, a hand pressed against the small of his back and dropped away as he straightened. Vader stood next to the bed, crowding into Obi-Wan's space, but he didn't say anything and didn't try to stop Obi-Wan as he brushed past him, heading for the door.

That night and the following nights, he spent undisturbed; the days were spent in more strange domesticity.

As they moved around one another each day, strange binary stars, Vader lay they occasional light touch on him. On his back, shoulders, arms, hands; each time, his hands dropped away as Obi-Wan became aware of the touch. He expressed low, huffed amusement as Luke shared his dessert by shoving a piece of cake into Obi-Wan’s mouth. There was peace in the slope of his shoulders as he sat across the living room, watching Luke drift to sleep against Obi-Wan’s chest as Obi-Wan read to him.

It was almost…pleasant.

On the fifth night, sometime after he’d put Luke to bed, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

“My Lord?”

“Were you asleep?” Vader asked.

“Reading.”

“You can do that anywhere. Come with me. Bring your book.”

Obi-Wan followed Vader across the hall and into his rooms, hesitating briefly at the door before stepping inside. He'd like to think he didn't jump when the door closed behind him with a wave of Vader's hand.

Vader's room was part living area, part office. On one wall, there was a vid screen, a soft looking sofa and chairs surrounding it. On the opposite wall, a work table, steel, rubber and plastic components littering the surface and for a moment Obi-Wan flashes back to Anakin's room at the temple, the multitude of things he was always tinkering with.

And in between the domesticity of entertainment and hobbies, was a desk and computer terminal, vidphone, holomap reader and a rather comfortable looking desk chair that Vader sat in, watching him. He looked out of place. 

It was a very normal room.

“Sit down, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan skirted the edges of the room, sparing a glance at the closed door on the far end of the room, wondering briefly what was behind it, and slipped into the overstuffed chair beneath a reading lamp. The lamp clicked on before he could touch it. When he looked up, Vader was engrossed with something on his terminal. He spared no glance at Obi-Wan. And when minutes ticked by without that changing, Obi-Wan spread his book open on his lap and began to read.

It happened again the next night. And the one after. Once Luke was put to bed, Vader either herded Obi-Wan to his rooms immediately after or – if he'd been absent as Obi-Wan read to Luke – he showed up at Obi-Wan's bedroom door within a few hours.

On the seventh night, Obi-Wan asked why.

Silence stretched, filled with the rasp of Vader's breathing. “It pleases me to have you close.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Your presence is soothing.”

Obi-Wan’s second eyebrow joined the first near his hairline before he got his expression under control.

He remembered Anakin saying something similar when he sought Obi-Wan out when something troubled him, whether it was arguments with other padawans or, later, his insecurities about teaching Ahsoka.

But that was _Anakin_.

A Sith seeking to be soothed.  That was something else.

“Even with this?” Obi-Wan ran his finger over the plating of his collar.

“The collar mutes your connection to the Force. You still shine bright as a star to anyone who can see it.”

“Lucky them.” Obi-Wan knew he sounded bitter, found he didn’t care.

Vader’s helm fixed its placid gaze on him. “I can fix that. I can get a new collar. You won't be able to use the Force, but you will be able to sense it. After a fashion.”

Obi-Wan's fingers twitched over the top of his book and, while Vader didn't move, Obi-Wan could feel his gaze trailing from his face to his fingertips and back. He carefully shuttered his expression. To feel the Force again. To sense it, even if he couldn’t touch it, wield it. The idea made Obi-Wan's chest ache.

There must be a catch.

“I’ll think about it,” Obi-Wan said, turning back to his book.

 

Shared evenings became the new normal.

Sometimes Vader engaged him in conversation. At others, he left Obi-Wan to his own devices, reading or watching the news on the holonet.

Obi-Wan found himself observing Vader as he bent over a datapad, staring inscrutably at news of skirmishes in the mid-rim, in what were once Republic strongholds now chafing under Imperial rule.

On several occasions, Vader asked Obi-Wan a leading question, on history or politics or even the state of the Empire’s expansion. They were meant to make him respond with incredulity, even outrage. And Obi-Wan, emerging from the depths of his book, was often deep into an answer before he realized what Vader had done.

It reminded him so much of Anakin that something deep inside him cracked every time, threatened to shatter.

Then something did shatter.

Obi-Wan turned on the bed, could feel the cool sheets beneath his fingertips, twisting around his legs. But his mind was awash in memory. He and Anakin, during their final mission as Master and Padawan, at negotiations on some small planet wishing to join the Republic in the wake of Separatist encroachment. The quarters they had been given were simple, with a small bed and en-suite ‘fresher.

They had argued over the bed, ending in an agreement to trade off nights. On their last evening, Obi-Wan had the bed.

And that was where dream parted from reality.

Obi-Wan woke to Anakin crawling into the bed next to him, over him. He could see the gleam of moonlight in his padawan’s eyes, off the curve of Anakin’s new mechanical arm.

“Master,” Anakin whispered. The whisper fell against Obi-Wan’s lips. It was followed by the warmth of Anakin’s mouth. His lips were faintly chapped, tongue a lush wet heat. The hands that slipped beneath Obi-Wan’s tunic were hot. Long fingers plucked at his nipples and scratched down his chest, slid beneath the waist band of his sleep pants.

“Tell me to stop, Obi-Wan and I will. Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this and it ends.” Anakin followed each command with a kiss to Obi-Wan’s mouth, smothering Obi-Wan’s words. Anakin’s fingers wrapped around him, cool compared to his erection, and Obi-Wan couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into the grip reflexively. A sweet, sharp twist of Anakin’s hand had him groaning.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to a ceiling full of blue shadows. The same shades that swam through Anakin’s eyes as he knelt over him. Obi-Wan’s muscles seized and his orgasm rushed through him, unstoppable. He threw his head back against the pillow, gasping.

He lay there for some time after, listening to his slowing heart rate, feeling his semen cooling sticky on his belly, watching the dream drift away like smoke on the early morning air, leaving him alone, chilled, smelling of sex and wondering at what his mind was trying to tell him by coming up with a fiction that felt so much like reality.

 

The dream followed him as he started his day. At breakfast, he listened to Luke chattering to Vader, speaking only when directly addressed, leaving Vader to mind Luke, only half paying attention as Vader had to Force catch a piece of toast that went sailing off the toddler’s plate when he tired of eating.

“Obi-Wan.” Vader’s hand was on his shoulder. “Luke wants his bath.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, rising. Vader’s hand slid heavily down his arm to rest on his wrist.

“Is there something the matter, Obi-Wan?” The black helm was cocked to the side and the move was so familiar, Obi-Wan could imagine Anakin raising his eyebrows.

“Everything’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, moving quickly to lift Luke from his chair. “I didn't sleep well. That's all.”

“Bad dreams?”

Obi-Wan paused, unsure if there was something knowing in Vader's voice or if it were his own paranoia making him hear things.

“After a fashion,” he finally said, and whether that was answer enough or not, Vader didn't stop him as he left the room with Luke in his arms.

 

Luke was difficult during his bath, fussing and making sure Obi-Wan got just as wet as he did. The fussiness continued after the bath, as Luke picked up and discarded toys, pushed away the book Obi-Wan offered to read to him, before finally sitting down in a corner next to his plush hawk-bat and picking morosely at its fur.

Obi-Wan wondered how much of his own mood Luke might be picking up on. Sitting in a corner and doing nothing sounded appealing to him too. A passing speeder caught his eye through the window and the bright blue curve of sky and green tree tops led his gaze to the grounds. Grounds he’d never been on.

“Luke, would you like to do something different today?”

As soon as they were outside, Luke begged to be put down and Obi-Wan released him, with an admonition to stay close as they walked in the early summer sun. Luke trotted in front of him, occasionally pausing to look at a particularly interesting bug or one of the large rocks that lined the walking path and sometimes running back to Obi-Wan to gift him a small pebble.

They walked until they reached the edge of the property with its sprawling lake. Obi-Wan remembered it from the map of the grounds he had seen a few weeks after Vader brought him here. The water reflected the blue of the sky.

Taking off their shoes, they sat at the water’s edge. Luke made constructions from the soft mud and babbled excitedly when he caught the flash of silver and blue fish in the shallows.

“If you put your hand in the water,” Obi-Wan told him, “and hold very still, you might be able to touch one.”

Luke, eyes wide, did as Obi-Wan suggested. Eventually, and one by one, curiosity got the better of the fish and they swam close, investigating Luke's fingers, looking for any signs of food.  Luke shifted to touch them and they shot off through the water in flurry of shining colors, making him laugh and try again.  Eventually he bored of the fish and turned his attention to the small water fowl dotting the line of the shore, chasing them into the shallows to watch them submerge and come up several meters away, chattering at him.

A knot of shame tightened in Obi-Wan's stomach as he watched Luke play and wondered when the boy had last been outside. Truly outside. He hadn’t even entertained the idea, so caught up in his own grief and worries. And for what? He had no plans to run, no path of escape. Why run when the running exhausted him? Why hide when he would be found? Why fight with sabers and side-arms when he could fight with words and teachings? Why search for a future in the Outer Rim when the one that mattered was right here?

Obi-Wan looked up and found Luke gone. He was on his feet before he registered moving, heading toward the water. There, on a little spit of rock, crouched Luke. He was reaching for a shiny water violet that floated just out of reach.

The air thickened, weighing Obi-Wan down. His feet sank into the soft sand. Time itself seemed to slow. And he watched Luke falter, try to catch himself and tumble into the water, disappearing beneath the silver sheen.

He didn’t resurface.

With a gasp of Obi-Wan’s breath, time restarted and Obi-Wan was waist deep in water in a moment, flinging himself to the spot where Luke’s blond head had vanished, diving and resurfacing empty handed multiple times, unable to see anything through the stirred up silt.

A tingle ran down the length of his spine, sizzling hot. He had enough preservational awareness to consider the collar, even as he dove again. His fingers reached, grasped, finally closed around a soft arm and pulled.

He broke the surface with Luke in his hands and felt the collar short. For a micro-moment, all that he was and had been came flooding back to him. He could feel the fish stirring in the lake, the birds flying overhead, hear the trees whispering. The bright spot that was Luke nearly blinded him.

He wanted to revel in it.

But then came pain, burning through him, making his jaw clench so hard he was sure his teeth cracked. He reached, grasped the Force as he hadn’t in months, brought it to wrap around Luke and propelled the boy up and through the air to the shoreline.

He heard him cough, heard him cry.

And then heard nothing else as his world was eclipsed by a star inside his brain going nova.

The last thing he knew was the water rushing over his head.


End file.
